


Rehab For An Angel

by bjrit92



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x13, Angst, But not a song!fic, Elements of a song!fic, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel!Wump, Original Character - Freeform, Protective Gabriel, Reader-Insert, Shortly after 13x13, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Strong Reader x Dean bromance, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-18 19:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjrit92/pseuds/bjrit92
Summary: You'd known the Winchesters for years. You'd been dragged through their insane world of angels and demons and Apocalypse. You'd met, fallen in love with, and subsequently lost to the war a particular archangel with a large sweet tooth and a tricky disposition. That was ten years ago. You'd done your best to move on. What did your past have to do with the now?





	1. Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> 13x13 lit a new fire under my butt, so before you read this, a general disclaimer would be to catch up to season 13, episode 13. Big spoilers ahead if you don't. Otherwise, enjoy! I love feedback.

It had been three years since you'd seen the Winchester brothers. You checked in with them now and again, they called you for advice, that sort of thing. As far as being in their presence...it had been quite some time. It hadn't always been that way. Once, the three of you were the best of friends. You hunted with them regularly. Bobby had taken you in, same as he had with them, once your mother had died. When she died, you'd had no one. Bobby offered you another chance at family, and you had taken it. Through him you'd met the Winchesters, who became as close as brothers to you. You began hunting with them more and more often. You were dragged deeper and deeper into their world, becoming entwined in matters you could barely wrap your head around. It was through them and your involvement in their life that you'd first met Gabriel.

 

He was a dick. Such a dick. And yet...there was something about him. Being around him made you groan and roll your eyes, but there was something enticing about it. About him. Once he revealed himself for who he was beyond the Trickster, he had begun spending more time with the three (four whenever Cas was around) of you, stepping up to help with his family apocalypse drama. It was during this time you'd begun to see a new side of him, a deeper, more complex side. You began to crave the moments where he showed this part of him, the part that openly expressed emotion, such a human-like quality, obviously a trait he had picked up from the centuries of living among them. He seemed to relax more around you, becoming light-hearted and almost flirty when you were alone together. It became easier for him to make you smile and you didn't realize you'd fallen in love with the archangel until you were already in too deep.

 

At times, you'd swear he knew. He would make an offhand comment, or express small, hidden sentiments such as a piece of candy on your pillow or a flower where he knew you'd find it. You'd war with yourself as to whether it was a wise idea or not to confront the situation and the tension between the two of you.

 

Lucifer decided for you.

 

The day he died, he took a piece of you with him. It felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest and you were falling to your knees in despair as you watched the blade sink deep into his chest. His head turned slightly at the last moment, his eyes catching yours, before they shone the brightest, most devastating blue you'd ever seen and he sunk to the ground, lifeless. You hadn't realized you were screaming until you felt your vocal cords beginning to tear from the exertion. Whatever happened next was a blur because the only thing that mattered was the ashen markings of his wings, once golden and majestic, burned into the floor and no matter how hard you clutched his body or screamed his name, he wasn't coming back, and all of the missed opportunities were crashing around inside your skull with the knowledge that he died not knowing how much you loved him.

 

The next few months were hollow. The world was devoid of color. Food had no taste and you had no desire to eat it. Your memories of bouncing with the boys from motel to motel were spotty. Somewhere in that time you'd discovered the bunker. It was a blessing and a curse. It gave you your own, private space. You hadn't had a room of your own since you were a child. It also made life stagnant, and you less likely to leave your self-imposed prison. If it weren't for Castiel explaining that humans and angels don't go to the same place after death, you may have been content to let yourself waste away.

 

Ironically enough, it was Bobby dying that woke you up. The heartbreak at his death was nothing compared to Gabriel's and you felt so, so guilty. Gabriel you had known for all of two years. Bobby you had known, loved, been loved by the way a father loves his daughter, and yet his death hardly compared to the devastation you'd felt when Gabriel had died and it simply wasn't fair to Bobby. In a misplaced strive for atonement, you threw yourself into hunting, to the concern of the other three members of Team Free Will. More often they would wake to a note from you explaining you'd be home soon, you'd found a case and were taking care of it by yourself. You began staying away longer and longer. You'd check in with them every few days, but the days turned into weeks away until eventually you packed and left with barely a goodbye and a promise to call.

 

That was six years ago. You made good on your promise to keep in touch, but you hadn't met up with them in almost three years. They seemed to understand that being alone was what you needed, so they hadn't interfered. Which was why the conversation you'd had this afternoon with Dean was so confusing.

 

"Y/N, we need you here. I know you're doing your own thing right now but this is big."

 

"Why do you need me there? I'm perfectly capable of digging for lore on my own and calling you like I usually do. Besides, the bunker has more resources than I could probably find on whatever you need anyway."

 

"It's not like that this time. Look, it's complicated, and it's not something I really think can be explained on the phone. Where are you right now, anyway?"

 

"Milwaukee."

 

"See you in twelve hours."

 

He'd hung up on you then, assuming he'd hooked you well enough into coming back, the confident bastard. You huffed as you gripped your steering wheel, annoyed that he still knew you so well after all these years. You'd driven almost through the night, stopping briefly to nap in your car for an hour or two. The area was becoming more and more familiar, you knew you weren't more than an hour away now.

 

In no time, you were pulling up outside the bunker. Dean was leaning against the door, obviously waiting for you.

 

"About time," he called out to you as you closed the door of your mustang.

 

"Dude, I had to sleep at some point," you countered. You threw your bag over your shoulder and strode toward him. 

 

He let out a low whistle.

 

"I'm liking the new look, Felicity."

 

You rolled your eyes and he pulled you into a hug. In the years you'd been away you'd gone through some dramatic identity changes, which included chopping off most of your hair and a few new tattoos.

 

"Bite me, Winchester," you snapped playfully, and he chuckled. More seriously, you added, "so what's got your panties in a wad so bad you need me here to untangle them?"

 

You didn't expect the mood to change so dramatically, but as he released you from the hug his gaze had grown a stony look to it and his shoulders had visibly tensed. He opened his mouth once, twice, three times to speak. You'd never seen him this disturbed, and it was making you anxious.

 

"Look, Y/N. I'm gonna be honest with you. There's some of it I can explain, but there's a lot of it I can only show you. It's...well it's more than complicated. Sam didn't think I should call you. He thinks it's better that you don't know about it. You have a right to know, though."

 

"Does Sam even know I'm here?"

 

"...no. No he doesn't."

 

You sucked in a breath, your nerves were beginning to vibrate from the anxiety and the palpable tension of the subject you barely knew anything about. You were curious, but you were also becoming frightened.

 

"Let's get this over with, then," you stated, and marched toward the door.

 

You opened the door to the bunker and called out a cheery "Honey, I'm home!" Which caught the attention of the tall brunette down below, who looked up at you with an interesting mix of surprise and anger, although you were fairly certain the latter wasn't directed toward you. You reached the bottom of the stairs and Sam cooled his expression into one of fondness, enveloping you into a hug with a halfhearted "hey, Y/N. It's good to see you." You didn't miss the pointed look over your shoulder at Dean he threw. You were becoming antsy with anticipation over whatever secret they were keeping from you.

 

You pulled away from Sam and looked between him and his brother. With a poignant look at Sam, you said, "look, I gather you're not entirely happy to see me here, but I'm also figuring it's more of a desire to protect me from something than a fear I'll fuck it up. While I love that about you, Sammy," you saw his jaw twitch at the nickname, you were the only one he allowed to call him that besides Dean, "if whatever big, incredible thing that's happened involves me, I have a right to know. However," you looked toward Dean, "whatever it is is going to have to wait a bit. I'm exhausted, so I'm going to go lie down and have a nap and probably a shower, first, mmmkay?" The older brother nodded, conceding to the reasonable request.

 

Hoisting your bag once again over your shoulder, you made your way toward your room. You were remembering how strangely comfortable your bed in the bunker always was and with every step, a nap in the aforementioned bed was calling your name louder and louder. However...it had been six years since you'd lived here. Was your old bedroom the third or fourth door on this hall..? Oh, who cares, they're all bedrooms, you'd find the right room another time, you just wanted to sleep.

 

The boys watched you walk toward your room. They saw you hesitate between the third and fourth doors in the hallway. Yours was the third door, but they didn't realize the danger and call out to you in time before you opened the door to the fourth room. 

 

Your hand twisted the knob and pushed the door in. You vaguely registered the boys calling your name in alarm, but your attention was drawn to the strange man sitting facing the wall on the bed in this room. You heard the Winchester's feet running toward you, but they didn't reach you before the man turned his head toward the door, alerted by the sound of it opening. Your bag fell to the floor and all of the air left your body as your eyes met the whiskey colored ones ten feet away from you. For three seconds, your eyes met, and you saw the haunted look behind them, the vague recognition, before Sam reached you and closed the door.

 

You were motionless. Speechless. Your eyes turned to Sam's, pleading silently for him to tell you what you saw--who you saw--wasn't what you thought. Sam's eyes were full of apology.

 

"Y/N I'm so sorry, we should have warned you, this isn't how we wanted you to find out--"

 

The air came back into your body in a huge gasp, along with the feeling in your legs. You ran.


	2. Breathe

You reached your mustang and leaned on the hood, gasping for air, trying not to retch. You heard the sound of the boys following you and you held out a hand to stop them from coming any closer.

 

"Y/N..."

 

"No. NO, Dean. How fucking dare you. How...why? How is he here? How is he alive? You KNOW what his death did to me and you brought me here with barely any warning? How could you do this to me?"

 

You didn't know when you'd started crying. Dean reached you first and pulled you into a tight hug. You fought it at first, but a wracking sob shook you and suddenly you were clutching the front of his shirt like a lifeline as your legs gave out from under you. You'd always been closest to the older Winchester. You loved Sam dearly but there was a level you and Dean vibed on that you didn't have with Sam. Dean had known about your love for Gabriel. He'd figured it out and confronted you about it. You brushed it off until you finally relented and confessed to him. He'd been your rock through his death. Without him, you probably wouldn't be alive. So how *dare* he bring you into this situation without warning?

 

You registered that he was speaking to you after a few moments. You finally calmed enough to listen to what he was saying, and realized he was explaining to you everything he should have told you before you'd seen what you'd seen.

 

"...bad shape. Asmodaeus had done a number on him, for years. It was pure luck that we managed to get him out of there and back here. He's been here about two weeks. He's healed a lot physically, but he's still pretty beaten up and either can't or won't speak, not to us, not to Cas, not to anyone. Sam wanted to leave you out of this but I knew if anyone could reach him, it would be you. I'm so sorry you found out how you did, Apple Pie. I should have warned you. We shouldn't have put him in the room next to your old room. That's on us and you're allowed to hate us for it. If you want to leave and never come back, it's okay."

 

You'd stopped crying, focusing on the words he was saying. You still clutched him, but you were stable enough to support your own weight again. You were silent a long time. You could tell Dean was a little uncomfortable with the silence, but he was wise enough to wait for you to break it.

 

"Can I see him?"

 

Dean pulled back and looked you in the eyes, searching. He could read you better than anyone. "You sure about that, Sweetheart? You can wait as long as you need."

 

Untangling your hands from his shirt, you straightened your resolve. Wiping the tears from your face, you heaved a deep breath and released it before replying.

 

"I would like to see him, Dean, please."

 

Dean's eyes flickered back and forth from your left eye to your right, thinking, and finally nodded.

 

"Dean..." Sam began from a few feet away.

 

"No, Sam," you cut him off. "I need to see him. Please." Whatever Sam saw in your face, it made him relent and nod. The brothers walked you back into the bunker. 

 

You paused outside the door to his room and took one more shuddering breath before opening it once more. Gabriel hadn't moved from where he'd been sitting when you opened the door five minutes earlier, but this time, he was looking toward the door, as if he expected you. He very well may have, his angelic hearing may have picked up the conversation outside even. Whatever he may have heard, it didn't register on his face. His face was practically devoid of emotion. Your eyes met his once again, and again you saw the faint flicker of familiarity, but that was it. He didn't speak to you, didn't stand, didn't acknowledge you in any way. He blinked once, twice, and turned his head back toward the wall. It made you want to cry. You took in his bedraggled appearance. He'd obviously been dressed in clothes that belonged to one of the brothers. They were much too big normally, but it was even more accentuated by how much weight he had lost. You could clearly see the lines of his clavicle, trace his jaw. You were certain, were he to take off his shirt, you'd be able to count his ribs. You could see the faint scars and healing bruises littering every inch of skin you could see. His wings lay dejected on the bed, smaller somehow, as if his feathers had dulled and thinned and were only half-heartedly clinging to his shoulder blades.The most disturbing new feature were the scars around his mouth, giving the horrifying impression that it had at one time been sewn shut. The idea and image it conjured made a shiver run down your spine.

 

"Is he..." you began.

 

"...human?" Dean finished for you, "no. Not quite. According to Cas, he's got just enough mojo to still be technically an angel. It's going to take him a long time to fuel back up, though. What little grace he has right now, his body is instinctively putting toward healing his vessel. He's been through some shit, Y/N. I'm not gonna lie to you. And we barely know any of it."

 

You felt awkward talking about him like this in front of him. You finally managed to pull your eyes away from him and turned from the door. "I think I need a drink." The door was shut behind you as you walked away from it toward the kitchen. You found the stash where it always was and poured yourself a heavy dose of whiskey before knocking it back in two large swallows. You choked on the liquid and the burn made your eyes water, but it also grounded you. You poured yourself another glass before putting away the bottle and turning to the men before you.

 

"Where is Cas, anyway?" You asked.

 

"We don't know," Sam replied. "He stops by from time to time, and he calls every day, but he's following leads on more dreamwalkers with the hopes of finding one with the power to help us get Jack and mom back." You nodded your head as he spoke, you hadn't been around, but they'd kept you informed of the goings-on without you. Life was never simple with them.

 

"How long does Cas think it'll take Gab...him to get back to normal?"

 

Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

 

"Honestly, Y/N, we don't know if he ever will," Sam replied. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked between him and Dean, searching for more.

 

Dean volunteered, "he's been through a lot, like we said. We don't even know most of it. Torture is a tricky thing...it can mess with you in ways you'd never think it would. There's...well, if I'm honest Y/N, there's a chance the Gabriel we knew, the one you knew, is gone."

 

You released the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Looking down at your glass, you lost yourself in the swirling amber liquid. The color swirled and suddenly it was too much like the eyes of the man you'd thought dead for all these years and you couldn't bear to look at it any further. You tossed the drink into the sink and without looking either brother in the eye, declared, "I need to sleep," and left the room. They let you go.

 

You passed by his room on the way to yours. You paused briefly at the doorway. A part of you wanted to go in, hold him, do anything you could to fix his wounds, inside and out. Another part of you was terrified at the prospect of the man behind the door being a complete stranger to you. You shook your head to clear it and walked to your own door. Opening it, you were filled briefly with a sense of nostalgia. They hadn't changed it since you'd left. Every decoration, everything you hadn't taken with you, was exactly where you'd left it. You wondered if it was still there...you decided you'd wait until later to look. Right now, all you wanted was to collapse onto your bed and pass out. So you did.


	3. Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a big longer than I had anticipated it being. I'd originally planned to split it into two chapters, but decided against it. It has the feel of being a song!fic, but I'm using music simply as a plot device. So, kinda a song!fic, but not a song!fic. The songs used in this chapter are: "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry and "Never Enough" from the musical The Greatest Showman. Enjoy! I love feedback like Gabriel loves chocolate <3

When you woke up that evening, it took you a moment to remember where you were. Once you did, the realization of everything that had happened earlier that day came crashing down on you. Your eyes were drawn to the wall that separated your bedroom from his. Rubbing your face, you tore your eyes away. One thing at a time, you told yourself. You'd been lucky enough to snag one of the rooms with its own bathroom, so you gathered your needed supplies for the shower. Thankfully, it was on the side of the room away from his room. 

 

The hot water did wonders to relieve the tension in your body that had formed over the last twelve hours. You could barely keep up with the roller coaster of emotions and new developments in your life. While your life hadn't been normal in decades, the last six years you'd been gone, you'd fallen into a routine. Hunt, kill, call the boys, move to a new motel, repeat. You never stayed in the same city for longer than it took to kill the monster. It wasn't a particularly good life, but it was familiar, and it had become your normal. It looks like life had other plans.

 

Gabriel was alive. Not only was he alive, he had been for probably years, and had been tortured to the brink of insanity for most of the years he'd been back, by the looks of it. You'd seen the flicker of recognition in his eyes when he'd seen you. It was hard enough that he was back, the idea of him not knowing you was more than you could bear. Seeing him again had dredged up all the feelings you'd shoved away and locked tight. You hadn't allowed yourself to feel them in years, and here they were, forcefully asserting themselves once again as if they'd never left. You were, still, unavoidably, irrevocably, in love with the broken man next door.

 

You had no idea what to do with that information, so you stuffed it to the side to re-examine later. You climbed out of the shower and dressed yourself. Your eyes found the small closet in your room. You wondered...they'd left everything else in the room the way you'd left it. Perhaps they'd left this alone too. It was the one thing you'd regretted not taking with you. You opened the door and saw the dusty case leaning on the wall where you'd last set it. You smiled fondly to yourself as you pulled it toward you. You'd bought another, second-hand, not quite as good. It'd been an adequate replacement. Enough to help you earn a few bucks playing at a bar here and there. But you'd missed your baby. Opening the case, you ran your fingers fondly down the strings and the body of the old acoustic guitar. You pulled it out of the case and easily held it in place next to your body. You plucked one of the strings and cringed. Yep, definitely out of tune. That would need fixing. Somehow, the strings seemed fine. One less thing to have to worry about.

 

You spent the next hour or so using a tuning app on your phone to help you get the guitar back into working order. Once everything was how it was meant to be, you strummed a chord, and choked to a stop. The last time you'd played this particular guitar came rushing back to you and if you weren't sitting on your bed, you'd have fallen to your knees.

 

It had been the night before the five of you had travelled to the hotel. You were all desperate for one last night of normalcy, so you'd brought it into the living room. He was sitting beside you, watching you play. You'd pretended not to notice his gaze, until he spoke, requesting a specific song. The request had made you pause, it was a strange choice, no matter that it was one of your favorite songs to play when you were alone and particularly emotional. You wondered if he knew that. You hesitated for only a moment before you played it.

 

Your heart heavy, you strummed the first chords of the song you hadn't sung in almost a decade, the last song you'd played on this guitar. Tears welled up in your eyes that you choked down. You played the second chord.

 

"If I die young, bury me in satin..."

 

The words made your throat tight and you almost stopped. You paused to catch your breath before continuing.

 

"Lay me down on a bed of roses..."

 

This song was so much more impactful considering how the last decade had gone, and especially how the last day had been. Yet, the song seemed to stir something inside of you. You continued to sing, more confidence in your voice now.

 

"Sink me in the river at dawn...send me away with the words of a love song...oh oh, oh oh...Lord make--"

 

A sound outside your door made you pause. You expected a knock on the door, but none came. Curious, you walked to the door and pulled it open. The last thing you'd expected was to see Gabriel standing behind the door, looking lost, yet with a small flicker of purpose in his face. Your heart stuttered in your chest. 

 

"Gabe..?" You looked at him, brows cinched in question, and he looked back. Hardly any emotion registered on his face, but his eyes drifted between you and the guitar resting in your hands. His eyes met yours once more and you seemed to understand what he was asking. You moved aside and gestured for him to come in. He shuffled past you and sat down at the edge of your bed, as if afraid to take up too much space. You stood in your doorway for a long moment, taking in the sight of the man in front of you, a shell of what he once was. You remembered what Sam and Dean had said earlier, about the Gabriel you knew likely being gone. And yet...he'd heard you singing his song and been somehow drawn to you, interacting in a way you'd been lead to believe he hadn't interacted with anyone in the fortnight since they'd rescued him. You didn't know what to do with this, but you felt your heart might burst open if you tried to figure it out.

 

Instead, you opted for moving back to the bed and sitting beside him. You made sure to leave room between the two of you so you weren't touching before putting the guitar back where it rested flushed against your body. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat, trying not to think too much into the situation you were in and who you were in it with.

 

"Lord, make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother...she'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors..."

 

You sang the entirety of the song, the figure next to you sitting in silence, not even twitching as you sang. The song ended and you turned to look at him. His face was turned away from you, all you saw was his profile. You could swear you'd spotted a single tear start to roll down his cheek before he got up without a word and walked out of the room, presumably back to his own dwelling.

 

You released a breath and ran a hand through your short hair. What the hell had just happened? You'd just played a song you had avoided for almost ten years for the angel you loved but had thought dead for that same amount of time in a room you hadn't been in for six years on a guitar you hadn't touched since he had died. You needed another drink.

 

It became a strange...not a routine, but common occurrence. He didn't appear every time you played, but once in a while he would show up, wanting to listen. The third day, he was bold enough to knock on your door, instead of waiting for you to notice his presence outside of the room. He still hadn't spoken to you. He had barely looked at you, and he always left unceremoniously at the end of whatever song you were playing. You hadn't mentioned this strange new development to the brothers. They hadn't noticed and you felt it was...intimate. Gabriel was opening up to you, in this smallest of ways, that he hadn't for them.

 

You'd started using this time to keep tabs on how he seemed to be faring. Some of the scarring was beginning to fade, and there was less bruising than there had been when you'd seen him that first day. His wings still drooped off his shoulders and he was still much too thin, but his color was beginning to return, so you suspected his grace was starting to replenish itself. You resisted the urge you felt occasionally when he was sitting beside you to brush his hair away from his face (it had grown so long) or stroke his feathers comfortingly. You'd never touched his wings, never even mentioned them. You didn't know if there was some ancient primordial rule against acknowledging them, but it wasn't something you wanted to breach. You were initially surprised to be able to see them at all, but you assumed he was simply proud of them in a way other angels weren't, and after all these years you'd become accustomed to the sight. You didn't blame him for wanting to show them off, at full power they were an exhilarating and intimidating sight. Now, though...their dull color and broken plumage broke your heart. It was as if they represented his emotional state, full and remarkable when he was cocky and laughing, but dreary and miserable with how he felt now. You'd noticed a few feathers that were tucked the wrong way and worried they'd been hurt. You made a mental note to mention them to Castiel the next time you saw him.

 

It took Castiel a week to show up. He wasn't surprised to see you, the boys had obviously told him about your arrival. He pulled you into a hug when you'd seen him, which you gladly returned. You'd missed the odd, perceptive angel. The boys filled him in on Gabriel's condition as you sat in the living room, absentmindedly strumming a song on your guitar. A noise caught everyone's attention and suddenly everything stopped as all eyes were drawn to the figure standing quietly in the doorway. If the attention bothered him, he didn't show it. He walked to the armchair, not making eye contact with anyone. He sat down and looked, almost bashfully, at your guitar. The boys watched the odd new development and Sam began to speak before you held up a hand to quiet him. Gabriel raised his eyes slightly to meet yours before looking away toward the empty corner of the room.

 

You began to play the song you'd been strumming, a song from a musical you'd recently seen and loved, singing softly,

 

"I'm trying to hold my breath...let it stay this way, can't let this moment end...you set off a dream in me...getting louder now, can you hear it echoing? Take my hand, will you share this with me? 'Cause darling without you..."

 

You got through the entire song, singing softer than the song intended, calming the parts that were meant to be belted. The song ended and Gabriel locked eyes with you for a long moment. You hardly dared to blink, not wanting to break this rare contact. Finally, he stood from the chair, once again not speaking to anyone, and exited the room. The three men behind you watched the exchange, bewildered. All three were silent for a moment before Dean, in true fashion, blurted out, "what the hell was that?"

 

You put down the guitar and sighed, turning to the three shocked men. "It's been happening since the day I arrived. Almost every time he's heard me singing and playing, he's come to listen. That's the first time he's ever come when any of you are around, though." You looked toward the door he'd disappeared through. Hopefully this was a good thing, him showing himself to the rest of the group?

 

"I knew you'd reach him," Dean said quietly behind you.

 

"Has he spoken to you?" Castiel asked.

 

You shook your head. "No, he barely even looks at me. It's given me the opportunity to inspect his well-being, though. Which reminds me, Castiel, there are some of the feathers on his right wing that seem bent the wrong way. Is there any way to help fix that, or will it have to heal itself, like the rest of him? Being his wings and not his vessel, I wasn't sure if it made a difference."

 

"Y/N...what did you just say?"

 

Castiel was looking at you strangely. It made you uncomfortable, as if he was scrutinizing you. You swallowed, suddenly nervous. 

 

"I...his wings. They look injured?" You offered. Castiel took a step toward you, the strange expression still on his face. You looked at the boys, who were looking between the two of you, just as confused. Dean gave you an unknowing shrug and you turned your attention back to Castiel.

 

"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned them...is that like, a rule? Never to mention an angel's wings?" You rubbed your arm nervously.

 

"Y/N...you can see Gabriel's wings?" Castiel asked with a deeply serious tone you rarely heard him use. You looked again between the three men in front of you.

 

"Yes..." you answered slowly, "I've always been able to see them. Can't...can't you?" You looked toward each man in turn, each of whom shook their heads. "Not...not even you, Cas?" Castiel shook his head.

 

"No, Y/N. I can't. Not when he's occupying a vessel. No one can. Not unless..." he trailed off, deep in thought.

 

"Unless what, Castiel?" you urged. He hesitated a moment before responding.

 

"There is a legend among angels that, were an angel to find their true soul mate, they would know by their mate's ability to always see their wings. An angel finding a mate is so rare that it has hardly ever been known to happen in our history, let alone with a human. The fact that you can see his wings..."

 

It felt like the air in the room was suddenly devoid of oxygen. You sat down onto the couch, hard.

 

"I...just thought he was...proud of them..." you muttered.

 

Castiel sat next to you and took your hand in his. Your eyes raised to meet his piercing blue ones. You felt as if he was looking into your soul. He may have been. 

 

"This explains why he was always so drawn to you, and why his death affected you so much. Y/N, you must not mention this to Gabriel. Not in the state he's in right now. It's probable he doesn't know you can see his wings, unless you've mentioned them to him before?" You shook your head. "Good. The last thing he needs right now is for his grace to become focused on mating, not now when he is so weak. He needs to focus on healing himself, first."

 

All you could do was nod your head, you didn't know how else to respond. Mate..? You were his mate..? What did that even mean? You weren't sure if you wanted to know. Not yet, anyway. Especially if it hindered Gabriel's healing process. That was of first and foremost importance. You'd ignored the fact you could see them for years, what was a few more weeks/months? The walls seemed to be getting closer, the room was shrinking. You stood abruptly, needing air. You mentioned as much to the three and walked out of the bunker.


	4. Hey, Jude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter, but it is packed with emotion. The song used is "Hey Jude" by The Beatles. Thank you all for your continued support for this story!

The first time you heard his voice was almost a week later. You'd awoken to a crash from the room beside you. In an instant you were on your feet, weapon in hand. You heard another loud thump on the wall next to yours, and you were out of your room immediately. You weren't the only one awoken by the sound. Sam and Dean were running up the hallway. You flung the door open to Gabriel's room to see Castiel with his arms around his wild-eyed brother, obviously trying to calm him. Gabriel's eyes were unfocused, if angels slept you'd think he was sleepwalking. Instead, you knew he must be having a flashback to whatever monstrosities he had been through. His strength had obviously not replenished much, as Castiel seemed to be able to hold him without much of a fight. He was still very weak. You began to rush into the room when Sam grabbed your arm to hold you back. 

 

"No, Y/N! It's dangerous!"

 

"Sam, let me go!"

 

Gabriel stilled briefly at the sound of your voice, which didn't go unnoticed by the other three men. Sam's grip loosened at the distraction and you were able to approach the slightly calmed angel. His eyes were still unseeing and he was still struggling against his brother's grip. Dropping the knife in your hand, you reached up and placed your hands firmly yet gently on either side of the archangel's face. Your touch seemed to distract him and he began to thrash less. You did the only thing you could think to do and began to sing the first song that came into your head.

 

"Hey Jude...don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better..." his thrashing stopped completely. You continued, your thumbs beginning to rub comforting circles on his cheeks, "remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better...hey Jude, don't be afraid...you were made to go out and get her...the minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better..." his breathing was coming in deep gasps and his eyes began to blink rapidly. They darted from every corner of the room and then they found yours. You were struck by the intensity behind them, the soft glow of the ancient being behind the vessel. Yet, you weren't afraid.

 

"And anytime you feel the pain, Hey Jude, refrain...don't carry the world upon your shoulders...for well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder..." his eyes were transfixed on yours and you could physically see him come back from wherever he was in his mind. Castiel released the grip he had on him and he stood still, eyes glued to yours. 

 

You stopped singing and he blinked once at you. Softly, his lips parted and you heard a quiet "Y/N" that you were sure only you and Castiel could hear. The sound of your name made your breathing stutter and brought tears to your eyes and you smiled at him.

 

"Hi, Gabriel," you supplied softly in return. You realized your hands were still on either side of his face and brought them back to your sides. Out of your peripheral, you saw that Sam and Dean had left the three of you alone, obviously recognizing that they couldn't add anything to the situation and you had it more than handled. Gabriel slowly dropped his eyes from you and sat on his bed. Castiel moved away, satisfied that his brother was no longer a threat to himself or anyone else. You began to turn to follow him when a hand shot out and grabbed yours. Shocked, you turned to Gabriel, who had a pleading, almost childlike look on his face. 

 

"Stay. Please."

 

You almost didn't hear him, he spoke so softly. You nodded and turned back to Castiel, who was watching by the doorway, that strange expression from the other day back on his face as he watched the interaction. You smiled softly and nodded at him, hoping he understood. He blinked at you and closed the door, leaving you alone with the archangel.

 

You turned back to Gabriel, who had curled up on the bed, facing you, watching your every movement. You swallowed, nervous and unsure of what to do next. Locking eyes with the angel, you climbed into the bed and laid down beside him, facing him. It seemed to be enough.

 

You both lay there like that for how long, you didn't know. Eventually you couldn't hold your eyes open any longer and drifted to sleep.


	5. Cracking The Shell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has such a special place in my heart, and I'm so happy to see you all loving it as much as I do!! Remember, reviews are like chocolates and much love to you all! <3

When you awoke the next morning, you realized you were alone. Sitting up, it took only a quick scan of the room to realize Gabriel wasn't in it. Confused, you walked out of his room and headed toward your own. To your bewilderment, when you walked through your doorway you were greeted by the sight of Gabriel sitting on the edge of your bed holding your guitar. He seemed to be studying the strings and every so often would pluck one experimentally. He acknowledged your presence with a glance your way before moving his eyes back to the guitar. You walked toward the bed and sat down beside him, bold enough to sit close enough to let you arm brush against his.

 

"Would you like me to teach you?"

 

Gabriel turned to you, a look of vague surprise and curiosity, more emotion than you'd seen in weeks, present on his face. You took it as a sign and gently took the guitar from his grasp, fixing it properly against his body. You placed his hands in their proper spots on the lower and upper strings. He let his fingers be molded gently by you, showing a trust and interest he hadn't shown anyone since his return. You fixed his fingers into the "E" position on the upper strings and helped his other hand strum the chord at the base. His eyes shot up to yours and you grinned at his show of enthusiasm.

 

You passed the time this way for another hour, fixing his hands into different chords and teaching him the basics about playing the guitar. Finally, you met his eyes and asked, "Gabriel...are you okay?"

 

His eyes looked away from you and he didn't respond. You sighed slightly, disheartened. You'd hoped, since he'd spoken to you last night, that this was another step he was ready to make. It seemed you were wrong.

 

"No."

 

Or not. His eyes found yours again and in them you saw pain, deep, raw pain. It broke your heart.

 

"When you're ready to talk, know that I'm here, and I'll listen, okay?" You reassured him. You weren't going to push him to share anything he wasn't ready to, especially when he was just now speaking again. He accepted your offer with a blink and a barely perceptible nod. 

 

"Why haven't you spoken until now?"

 

The question was an accident. You didn't mean to speak it out loud. You'd been thinking it, but you knew it was probably a loaded question, and you didn't want to push any boundaries. Not yet.

 

He surprised you by answering.

 

"I forgot how."

 

The answer surprised you. Your eyebrows raised. "You...forgot?" It registered with you then just how husky and hoarse his voice sounded, as if it hadn't been used in a long time. He spoke slowly.

 

"They...bound my mouth. I couldn't speak for years. Time passes differently there. One year here is a hundred there. After a while...stopped trying. Then...after...what was the point?"

 

Your hand found his knee and rubbed comforting circles on it. You didn't know quite how to respond to that.

 

"Does it...does it hurt, to speak now?"

 

"No....sore. Like a muscle that hasn't been moved in days."

 

"All the more reason to use it now," you said with an encouraging smile.

 

He looked at you, contemplative. "You...weren't happy to see me, here. Were you?"

 

The question threw you off and your smile faltered. Obviously, as out-of-it as he had seemed to be when you'd returned to the bunker, your reaction to him hadn't escaped his notice.

 

You chewed your lip, trying to find a non-complicated answer. "Gabriel..." he turned to look at you and when his eyes met yours, your resolve flickered. "It's not that I wasn't happy to see you, eventually. I felt a lot of emotions. I was shocked...scared, even. It was a lot to take in." Your eyes dropped from his. You picked at the hem of your shirt. "When you died...nothing was the same. Everything changed. It was a bad time, to say the least. And now, with you back...alive...don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to see you, it's just taking some adjusting. It's been a long time, you know?" Gabriel studied your face, taking in each word. It was several moments before he spoke.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

Without thinking, you let your head drop onto his shoulder with a small sigh. Immediately you felt him stiffen at the contact. Worried you'd crossed a line you hadn't seen you picked your head back up. 

 

"Gabriel...?"

 

He stood. "I should go." Silently, he set the guitar you'd forgotten he was holding on the bed and walked out the door. You felt strangely rejected, along with guilt. You'd pushed him too far and the walls he was slowly starting to lower had thrown themselves back up. He'd spoken to you, though. Not just spoken, he'd had a conversation. It was a start, that was for sure.


	6. Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my favorite chapter of the whole story, so I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you again for all of the positive feedback, this fic is my baby and all of the love has warmed my heart so much! Much love and chocolates, dearies!

"You cut your hair."

 

The statement caught you off-guard. You were sitting on the bed in his room, polishing the guitar lying on your lap. Ever since that night, the two of you had been spending more and more time together. It had been almost a week, and you'd fallen into an easy routine. He rarely joined you outside of one of your rooms, and when you were together there wasn't much conversation, but the quiet was less strained. You'd helped him find a few books in the library that interested him. They helped him pass the time and you'd sit with him in easy silence, strumming absentmindedly on your guitar or reading something of your own. Every so often you'd look up to find him studying you rather than the tome he was holding. You'd make eye contact and he would unabashedly hold your gaze until you looked away, having forgotten momentarily how to breathe. You were sure he could hear the staccato of your heart in these moments, but he never made mention of it. You'd been in his room this afternoon for a few hours now. The door was wide open, another improvement on his mental well-being that he was willing to disallow himself to be cut off from the rest of the world occasionally. He still hadn't spoken to anyone but you.

 

At the mention of your hair, you ran your hand through it. It had been a few months since you'd had it cut to the length you'd been keeping it, and it had grown down past your ears. Still, it was much shorter than the waist-length hair he must remember you with.

 

"Umm...yeah. Yeah, I did. I just...needed a change, I guess."

 

He glanced back toward his book, seemingly satisfied by the answer to his not-quite-a-question. Without looking away from his book, he asked more boldly, "the tattoo on your arm is new, too, right?"

 

You glanced toward your right arm. A small silhouette of a Phoenix twisted around your bicep, as if in flight. You'd gotten it about four years ago on a whim.

 

"Yeah...i got that one a few years ago. I was in a small town in Arizona and saw the design in the window of a parlor. It just felt right. Like...rebirth. Finding peace and rising from the ashes when the world around you had effectively destroyed you." You didn't know why you were explaining your tattoo to him so thoroughly. When you looked up you saw him watching you thoughtfully, his book forgotten on his lap, his forehead creased with curiosity.

 

"Any others?" He asked innocently. Without thinking about it, your hand was drawn to the spot over your chest where you'd been tattooed on the anniversary of his death a year after it had happened. It was your most personal tattoo, an exact replica of one of his wings you'd drawn from memory over your heart. Your wardrobe effectively hid it from the world. The boys hadn't even seen it, although they knew a memorial tattoo existed, they didn't know where or of what. Your eyes met Gabriel's again and he watched you with interest. You contemplated showing him your tattoo.

 

Castiel's words rang in your mind from the day he discovered you were soul mates. While Gabriel looked better now than he had a month ago, the scarring was almost gone, the bruises had healed, his face had lost the sunken, hollow look as he gained weight back, and even the feathers in his wings had regained some vitality and straightened themselves, he was still gaining his strength. He had a long way to go before he was back at full power. Surely he would recognize that the wing was his own and that would open a can of worms you weren't sure you were ready to face. You dropped your hand and looked away.

 

"Nope, just the one," you lied. You knew Gabriel knew you were lying, but he didn't push the subject. You pretended to focus on polishing your guitar once more, grateful that he had the tact to let the subject drop. You found yourself fidgeting with anxiousness, grateful that you had your guitar in your hands, something to ground yourself with. You'd thought plenty about the implications of what being an angel's soul mate meant. Castiel had respected your boundaries and hadn't spoke to you anymore on the subject. He obviously knew where your mind was at, though, because two days after the conversation in the living room you'd walked into your room to find a thick, dusty book lying on your pillow. Opening it, you found it to be a book of angel lore. You'd devoured the book over the next week, and had learned all you could about angels. Unfortunately, soulmates were only briefly mentioned. All you knew for certain was that his soul was linked to yours in a way no one else's could be, although the ramifications of an angel's soul being linked to a human's weren't mentioned at all, as though it wasn't even a possibility. You didn't think about that too much or you were pretty sure you'd run away in fear of the unknown. Perhaps, if the subject ever came up between you, Gabriel could offer more insight. You had to admit, though...being linked in such an intimate way to Gabriel was intriguing and you weren't particularly opposed to it. Chuck help you, you were so in love with the man.

 

Your stomach broke the awkward silence. Sheepishly, you rubbed your middle. You hadn't eaten since breakfast early that morning. Turning to Gabriel, you asked,

"Are you hungry?"

 

Gabriel's eyebrows raised at the question. Obviously angels didn't have to eat, although they could if they wished to, and he knew you knew that. He also knew you remembered how much he had loved food, sweet food in particular. You smiled at him encouragingly and got off the bed. Reaching out your hand toward him, he looked from your face to your hand and back before tentatively reaching out his own hand to take yours. Your smile grew and you pulled him off the bed and out the door with you toward the kitchen.

 

The boys had left for a supply run an hour ago, so you and Gabriel had the bunker to yourselves. You dragged the bemused archangel behind you into the kitchen and released his hand. Glancing around, you took a quick tally of what you knew to be in the cupboards before turning to Gabe with a glint in your eye.

 

"How about pancakes?" You suggested. Gabe raised an eyebrow but made a 'whatever you want' sort of gesture, so you quickly grabbed the needed supplies from the cupboards and fridge. Throwing a pan onto the stove to warm, you started mixing the ingredients into a large bowl. Suddenly, you had a thought. With a mischievous smile on your face, you turned and grabbed a chair from the small kitchen table and pushed it toward the spot you'd been standing in. Gabriel watched you, curious, but not interrupting whatever you were about to do. You climbed onto the chair and opened the cabinet again.

 

"Dean," you began as you started pulling things from the top shelf, "likes to think he's super clever. But I know him better than he thinks. I know, without fail, he always keeps a large bag of--" you leaned your knee onto the counter for leverage as you finally reached your prize and pulled it forward, "--dark chocolate chips hidden away. 'For special emergencies,' he calls it. More like so he doesn't have to share." It all happened within the space of two seconds, you turned to wave the bag triumphantly at your companion and place your foot back on the chair, but misjudged the distance and the way you were perched. You missed the chair completely, lost your balance, and fell, knocking everything from the shelf you'd carefully put aside to the floor, and as you tried to catch yourself, your elbow landed in the mixing bowl, toppling it and doing nothing to save your landing. You ended truly gracefully in a heap on the floor, covered in pancake mixture, clutching the bag of chocolate chips. Your face burned and you knew you were as red as the shirt you were wearing under the layer of flour on your face.

 

A sound drew your attention to the man beside you. Looking up, you saw something that made your heart sing. Gabriel was smiling. Not only smiling...he was giggling. The mighty archangel was giggling. His display of amusement made you smile. The interaction brought a thought to your mind...before you could think too much into it, you grabbed a handful of pancake ingredients from the bowl on the floor beside you and in one swift motion threw it at the man in front of you. It hit him in the chest with a small poof, smattering his face with flour and the like. Immediately his giggling stopped as the shock of what just happened registered with him. You held your breath, daring to hope that you hadn't crossed another line like you had the other day. His eyes were wide and his mouth formed a small "o" and it was such a comical sight that no matter your anxiety at his reaction, you couldn't help the laughter that sprung forth from you. 

 

Your laughter seemed to light something behind his eyes. There was an impish glint you hadn't seen in almost a decade that sprung forth. It made your laughter die down a bit in anticipation of his next move. Calmly, he brushed himself off, turned from you, and walked to the refrigerator. You couldn't tell what he was doing, his back and wings were blocking his action from view. When he turned back to you, he held something hidden behind him until he reached you. You watched him cautiously, suspicious about what he had planned. He fixed an innocent smile upon his face as he knelt down beside you on the floor, locking eyes with you. He held eye contact as, in one fluid, pristine motion he brought a bottle of chocolate syrup over your head, flicked the top open with his thumb, and squirted it all over your hair, where it dripped onto your face and clothing, making you gasp. He clicked the lid back onto the bottle and his innocent smile became smug as your wide eyes stared at him in shock. 

 

Quickly, you glanced around for another weapon. His eyes found the maple syrup bottle on the floor a split second after yours did. You met eyes once more before you both dove toward it, him attempting to pull you away from it as you were in the better position to reach it. His efforts were in vain as you managed to get your fingers around the bottle just enough to pull it toward you and grab it. He was still holding you around the middle and you used it against him by twisting and throwing the top off the bottle at the same time to squirt him with the sticky syrup. 

 

You were both laughing in a way neither of you had in over a decade as he wrestled the bottle from you. Trying to trick him, you let go of the maple syrup bottle and dove toward the chocolate, which he had left unguarded on the floor.

 

"Oh, no you don't!" He shouted as he reached for you, grabbing you around the middle as you reached your new ammo, lifting you into the air. You opened the tap and poured it behind you, knowing you hit your mark by the sputtering sound your captor made. Laughing, you managed to turn in his arms again and used his distraction to pull the maple syrup bottle from his hands.

 

Still held aloft by the angel but now armed in each hand, you held both bottles threateningly aimed toward him.

 

"Surrender!" You laughed.

 

"Never!" He replied, just as jovially.

 

"What in the hell is going on in here?"

 

You both froze, still smiling, and turned toward the doorway, where Sam and Dean were standing, looking a healthy mix of amused and confused. Sam was looking around at the mess in the kitchen and Dean was regarding the two of you and the position you were in, both covered in various amounts of sticky food. His eyes met yours and his eyebrow slowly raised. You felt yourself flush and you were suddenly extremely aware that Gabriel was still holding you in the air against him.

 

Gabriel seemed to realize the same and quickly lowered you to your feet, a sheepish look on his face as he glanced over you and your state of mess. 

 

"We...um...we were making pancakes," Gabriel supplied. Dean and Sam's attention both snapped to him, Gabriel hadn't spoken to either of them yet in the almost two months since they'd rescued him.

 

"Sorry," you added. "We'll clean up the kitchen, don't worry."

 

You could barely care about the mess as your eyes found Gabriel. His hand had found the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed, but still smiling. You'd seen him smile, heard him laugh...two things you'd been told may not be possible anymore, two things you'd desperately wished to see and had dreamed about almost every night for ten years.

 

Dean rolled his eyes at the two of you. "Don't worry about it, you two are more of a mess than this is. Just...go get yourselves cleaned up."

 

You and Gabriel glanced at each other, and, grinning, left the room. You walked beside each other down the hall toward your prospective rooms. You reached your door first and you turned to open it.

 

"Y/N?" Your name made you pause. You turned and were struck by how close Gabriel was to you. There was barely a foot of space between you and it made your heart skip a beat to be so close to him. You could count every eyelash. He continued, either oblivious to or ignoring the effect he was having on you.

 

"Thank you." He didn't offer more than that, but you understood. He had shown real joy this afternoon, joy he hadn't felt in, by his time in the cell, hundreds of years. You were moved by the fact that you were the one to be able to provide him with it, the one to finally get him to smile again. You saw a glimpse today of the man he used to be, the Trickster angel, always ready with a prank and a laugh. He was in there, somewhere, and your only mission became in that moment to pull it back to the surface whenever possible, as much as possible.

 

You smiled softly up at him, "anytime." He paused, as if hesitant to move away from you. His eyes glanced from yours to your lips. The movement made your breathing stop. It took all of your willpower not to close the distance between the two of you. His eyes flickered back up to yours before he seemed to mentally shake himself and pulled away from you, continuing toward his door without another word. You watched him enter his room before entering your own. Closing the door, you leaned against it, heart beating so fast you thought it would come right out of your chest. Your eyes looked toward the bathroom. 

 

You needed a shower. You were covered in sticky goo. 

 

Your eyes glanced to the wall separating your rooms before moving back to the bathroom door.

 

A cold shower.


	7. Curve-Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dear to my heart and dedicated to my best friend and faithful beta reader, kissofthebadwolf.tumblr.com. The OC introduced in this chapter is based upon this wonderful woman and I love them both dearly. As always, feedback is like chocolates <3 Much love, dearies!

As the days passed, it seemed Gabriel was slowly, slowly, returning toward a version of himself he was before. He was still choosey with whom he spoke to and how much he said, but it was starting to come across as an active choice whether or not to speak, whether he felt like giving the time, versus whether or not he could. His eyes maintained a quiet, haunted look when his guard was down and he thought you weren't looking, but more often they were holding a shadow of the spark they once held of mischievousness. His pallor was back to normal and his complexion was clear of any remnants of his time in the cell. His wings had gotten most of their color back. They were still a muted version of the golden splendor they used to be, but they didn't hang lifelessly from his back any longer. He'd put on some more weight and was seen more and more often in the common rooms (if that's where you were, that is) and was even taking to snapping in small items, proving that his grace had almost completed its task of healing his vessel and was focused now on simply replenishing itself. In short, he was trying. Things were starting to look up, starting to edge the dial ever so closer to normal. Of course, that's naturally when life had to throw you a curve-ball.

 

Sam and Dean were in the library looking into lore about alternate universes and you were on the couch, strumming random snippets of chords and melodies on your guitar. Gabriel was on the couch beside you, your legs across his lap, a book he was reading resting upon them. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door to the bunker.

 

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at each other. In no time you and the brothers were on your feet, the boys unsheathing their guns from the backs of their jeans and you had pulled the small knife you kept strapped to your ankle out of its holster. Gabriel stood as you stood and watched you closely as you, closest to the stairs, made your way toward the door. Whomever it was knocked again before you reached the lock. Slowly, you unlocked the door and eased it open a crack.

 

"No fucking way."

 

You opened the door fully and a mane of strawberry blonde hair engulfed you, making you drop your knife. Chuckling, you hugged its owner before pushing them back, your hands on their shoulders.

 

"How in fuck did you find me here?"

 

You moved to the side as you spoke, revealing a small woman about your age with long strawberry blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a face full of freckles. Her eyes were lined to a sharp point and her lips were a bright, blood red. She was dressed in hunter gear, a leather jacket buttoned over a blue flannel and snug jeans with a holster strapped to her hip. She was a strange combination of the most innocent and unassuming woman with the blatant capability to be lethal. She had a spark in her eyes that showed off her spitfire potential and you knew she could kill a man with a paper clip and chewing gum if she so wished without a single hair falling out of place (you'd seen it). She was more than a hunter, she was an assassin.

 

"Y/N, you can try as hard as you wish, but I'll always find you," she replied, her voice laced with amusement. You knew her words could be a true threat if she wished for them to be.

 

"I'll keep trying, but I hope to always fail," you said with affection. This woman had been the closest thing to a best friend you'd had for the last few years, after you'd separated yourself from the brothers. Your paths crossed on a hunt and kept crossing until you eventually sought each other out on purpose. Occasional hunting partner became occasional bar buddy became late-night confidant and friend. You owed her your life, several times over. In all truth, though, she could say the same about you.

 

A throat cleared from below you, alerting you to your forgotten audience. You ushered your friend inside and turned toward the three men standing in the living area.

 

"Gentlemen, this is my dear friend, Kaylee. She's a badass and will snap you in half if you cross her so look out," you laughed. The men were looking at you, confusion evident on each of their faces. You amended, "she's a hunter, but she's also an assassin. I owe her my life, and she seems insistent on collecting because I can't escape her, evidently." She giggled beside you, looking ever the most unintimidating creature. You turned back to her, "seriously, though. How did you find me here?"

 

She rolled her eyes at you, "Y/N, come on. I've known you for a decade, have a little faith. Also the GPS on your phone is still turned on." She patted your shoulder and started down the stairs as you blushed. 

 

"So this is the infamous Men of Letters bunker," she said as she looked around appraisingly.

 

You followed behind her and stopped beside her as she paused to survey the men in front of her. A contemplative look on her face, she chewed her lip for a second, before pointing at Dean.

 

"You have to be Dean. I've heard enough about you that I feel like I practically know you already." She turned to Sam, and her eyebrows shot up as she obviously checked him out, her eyes raking up and down his frame, making him shift a little uncomfortably. "You, gigantor, must be Sam. I've heard about you but I must say, Y/N here didn't quite do you justice." She winked at him, making him flush and visibly swallow. You laughed to yourself at your friend's brazenness, knowing she was teasing him just because she could. She turned to Gabriel and her brow cinched in slight confusion.

 

"You...I'm not sure who you are."

 

You stepped in before Gabriel could answer. You weren't sure if he would, anyway. "Uhm, Kaylee," you cleared your throat and she turned to you. "That's, uh, that's Gabriel."

 

Her playful smile dropped from her face and her eyes hardened in concern. "What?" She said sharply, turning to look at the named man. By her reaction, it was obvious to the three men that she knew who Gabriel was. She turned back to you, eyebrows raised in obvious demand for an explanation. You chewed your lip in anxiety before taking her arm and saying in a rush, "We have a lot of catching up to do--"

 

"You're damn right we do--"

 

"--so let me show you to my room and we can talk, okay?" You gave her a meaningful look. With another look toward the angel, she nodded and started to follow you out of the room.

 

"Wait," you heard Sam call to you both. You and Kaylee both stopped and turned toward him. Looking sheepish, he continued, "you said she's a hunter *and* an assassin?"

 

A wry grin spread across Kaylee's face as she replied, "the best, for a price. Not everyone wants to commit credit card fraud."

 

"So you kill people instead?" Dean replied. 

 

Kaylee's expression took on an undertone of danger as she turned her eyes to him and replied, "hey, a girl's gotta eat. The people I kill have it coming. When you really look at it, the two professions aren't too different. Both are about killing monsters."

 

With that, she strode ahead of you down the hall, leaving you to shrug your shoulders in a 'what can you do?' sort of way before catching up to her.

 

"Seriously, Y/N, when was the last time you even touched a makeup brush, let alone a flat iron?"

 

You laughed at her pretend annoyance as she swept the rouge across your cheeks. One of the best things about "catching up" with Kaylee? They almost always turned into juvenile-like sleepovers with makeovers and gossip. Although, you couldn't remember any of your sleepovers in junior high including sharing newly learned assassin combat moves and ways to hide various weapons in your clothes that made them virtually unnoticeable.

 

She put the brush down and gestured to the mirror for you to look at yourself. Another plus to Kaylee sleepovers? Her makeup skills were incomparable. She had contoured your face with such precision you felt you could cut a man with your cheekbones or your eyeliner, one. You hadn't seen your face so done-up in ages. You hardly recognized yourself and couldn't stop yourself from turning your head side to side, admiring her work.

 

"Yeah? You're hot, bitch. Get used to it," she teased. Rolling your eyes you got up and walked to your dresser, pulling out tshirts and shorts for the both of you. You were a bit bigger of a person than her, taller and more broad-shouldered, which made your clothes make her look even tinier than she was. You tossed her the clothes as you pulled your choices on for yourself.

 

"Are you hungry?" You asked her.

 

"Starved," she replied as she began to change into the clothes you'd given her. You left the room and walked toward the kitchen, intent on bringing as much snack food as you could carry with you. Kaylee had tastefully not brought up the angel-in-the-room, waiting for you to do so yourself, which you appreciated. You knew you owed her an explanation, not only for that situation, but for disappearing out of the blue for two months without contact. You knew you'd worried her.

 

Your thoughts were so full of the conversation you were going to have soon with your friend, you didn't realize the kitchen wasn't empty when you entered. Gabriel was standing by the sink, having obviously just gotten himself a glass of water. You walked in and he turned at your entrance. Your eyes met and his mouth fell open slightly at your appearance, eyes widening slightly.

 

Shyly, you ran your hand through your newly coiffed hair before clearing your throat and greeting the angel who was not-so-subtly looking you over.

 

"Um, hey Gabriel." You noticed his eyes lingering on your front and you were tempted to make a "my eyes are up here" joke when he spoke. 

 

"Is that...my shirt?"

 

Your eyes widened and you looked down to realize the oversized shirt you were wearing was, indeed, a shirt you'd stolen from him months before he'd died. It had become one of your favorites and was well-worn due to the last decade of sleeping in it. It was perhaps thinner now than it used to be, which you were suddenly acutely aware of. You swallowed nervously.

 

"Um, yeah, I think so. Did you...did you want it back?" You cringed in your head at your words, knowing how they must sound. The old Gabriel wouldn't have missed the opportunity to crack an innuendo joke, and as you met his eyes, you could tell this Gabriel was considering it. The next time he spoke, however, his voice was strangely hoarse.

 

"Um, no. No, that's okay. You...you can keep it. It uh, looks better on you anyway than it ever did on me." He cleared his throat once, twice. "Have um, a good night, Y/N," and with that, he strode from the room, as if desperate to get back to his own room, glass of water forgotten on the counter. You watched him go, eyes lingering on the doorway from the kitchen where he'd disappeared for a moment longer before turning away and remembering your quest for food.

 

You heard a small cough from behind you and you whipped around to see Kaylee leaning against the opening in the wall behind you, her eyebrow raised and her expression one of bemusement. "So he is *that* Gabriel, then. Interesting. Tell me, is it all just eye-fucking and slow-burn, or have you climbed into his pants yet?"

 

Your eyes widened and chin dropped in shock, "Kaylee!" 

 

She laughed, "you know I'm teasing you. You're too easy, sometimes. I was beginning to wonder where the hell you were with the food, I'm rather glad I came to investigate."

 

"How much of that did you see?"

 

"Enough to know your angel buddy is probably off to either take an icy cold shower or rub one out at the image of you all dolled up and lounging around in his clothes." You blushed deeply and swatted at her, making her laugh again. "Seriously, though, you've gotta tell me how he's even alive to do it. He's the one who died and broke your heart, right? What, did he actually not-die?"

 

You sighed as you started loading her outstretched arms with chip bags and sodas. "I...don't have the answer to that. There's a lot we don't know. He hasn't spoken about it much and I'm not going to push it. I've been through shit barely a fraction as intense as he's been through and I hate talking about it, I can't imagine he would want to drag up those memories. If he ever does want to talk, he knows I'm here for him. He's come a long way over the past couple of months. You'd hardly recognize him, he barely looked at anyone, let alone spoke. He's opened up a lot and I'm not going to ask for more than he's willing to give, you know?"

 

You turned back to Kaylee, your own arms full with cookies you'd baked the day before and a tub of cheese puffs. She was watching you with a soft smile. You raised an eyebrow at her, questioning.

 

"You're still in love with him."

 

It wasn't a question. You glanced toward the hallway where he'd gone, hoping he had his angel ears focused elsewhere. You lowered your voice. 

 

"It's...a bit more complicated than that. Apparently, and don't you breathe a word to him because he doesn't know, but according to Castiel, we're, um...soul mates."

 

"Soul mates? Like cheesy rom-com, destined to be together?"

 

"Um, kinda, but with less cheese and more divine influence."

 

"How do you know?" The two of you started back toward your room.

 

"Well, I didn't know until I made an offhand comment about his wings to Castiel. Apparently, being able to see them is not a common skill."

 

She stopped in her tracks. "Wait. You can see his wings? Like, big, flappy, birdy, angel wings?" You shrugged and nodded.

 

She let out a low whistle. "Girl, and I thought my love life was complicated. Speaking of, I don't mean to change the subject, but what is Goliath's deal? Hmm? 'Cause goddamn I'd climb that like a tree."

 

You laughed and followed her into your room. It was going to be a long night, but a good night.


	8. The Tragic Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 already! I can't believe we're so far into this story! We've got a couple more chapters to go before the end, though. I love how much you all love this story and I thank you all for the support from the bottom of my heart. The song used in this chapter is "Mr. Tin Man" by Miranda Lambert. Enjoy, and much love dearies! <3

"I'm just saying, there's technically no rule against it."

 

"Kaylee, that's NOT how "Fuck, Marry, Kill" works! You can't assign all three to one person!" You laughed as she shrugged her shoulders innocently.

 

"Isn't that how it usually goes in real life? At least with it predetermined there are no surprises," she replied, swallowing down another pull from the whiskey bottle she was holding. You rolled your eyes at her. You'd missed this--hanging out, eating junk food, getting drunk, talking about boys and pop culture and other girly gossip. It took you away from the world for a little while.

 

"Hey," she broke into your train of thought, "do you still play the guitar?" She gestured toward the corner of the room where your case was propped against the wall. You smiled fondly at it before turning back to her and nodding.

 

"You wanna hear something? You know I only take requests from paying customers," you teased. She gave your shoulder a playful shove.

 

"I'll buy you a drink the next time we're out, then. Come on, it's been forever since I've heard you play." You glanced at the clock. She followed your eyes before rolling hers. "Oh, go ahead. It's not that late. You're not gonna wake anyone up."

 

You chuckled and shook your head as you walked to grab your guitar from its case. Your mind wandered to the angel next door. You knew he would hear you playing, but you'd grown so accustomed to playing for him, it didn't bother you.

 

Sitting back down, you turned to your friend. "So anyway, here's Wonderwall," You stated in the most aloof, stoner voice you could manage. Laughing, she rolled her eyes at you.

 

"Do you remember that time we went to the bar--"

 

"Uh, yes. You're gonna have to be more specific."

 

"--shut up and let me finish, dick. It was like, three years ago, we'd just finished hunting a rugaroo together somewhere in South Dakota? There was that hole-in-the-wall little place off a road off the Main Street we found. There was a girl there playing and singing for, like, the three other people in the bar besides us. There was that song she played, do you remember?" You nodded, smiling as you started to remember. You thought for a moment, pulling the song to your mind. You hadn't heard it in a while, but you knew it well enough to figure out the chords and began to play, quietly at first.

 

"Hey there, Mr. Tin Man...you don't know how lucky you are...you shouldn't spend your whole life wishin' for something bound to fall apart...every time you're feeling empty, better thank your lucky stars...if you ever felt one breaking, you'd never want a heart..."

 

The song brought a small lump to your throat and you could see tears shining in your friend's eyes.

 

"Hey there Mr. Tin Man, you don't know how lucky you are...I've been on the road that you're on, it didn't get me very far...you ain't missin' nothing, 'cause love is so damn hard...take it from me darlin'...you don't want a heart..."

 

You saw tears start to roll quietly down your friends face as you continued singing the song. You felt tears behind your own eyes as you finished the song. 

 

"Hey there Mr. Tin Man...I'm glad we talked this out...you can take mine if you want it...it's in pieces now...by the way there, Mr. Tin Man...if you don't mind the scars...you give me your armor, and you can have my heart..."

 

Kaylee quietly wiped her eyes before reaching for the whiskey bottle and taking a long drag. You watched her for a moment before speaking.

 

"Kaylee...why are you here?" She looked up, a seriousness in her expression now as she paused before answering you, as if choosing her words carefully.

 

"I found him."

 

The simple statement knocked the air from your lungs and you put your guitar down on the bed beside you. Reaching over, you took your friend's hand, encouraging her to continue.

 

"The trail leads to a city about two hours west of here. You being in my path was dumb luck, or holy intervention, because I was on my way there when I found you here. If you're willing, I could use the backup. But this is something I have to do."

 

You nodded, listening, thinking. You looked toward your friend, who was looking away from you at the floor.

 

"Hey," she looked up at you, a deep sadness behind her eyes. "I'm in. You couldn't keep me away." Letting out a small choked sob, she lunged forward and wrapped you in a tight embrace, which you gladly returned. She had done so much for you, you couldn't let her down on this, something so personal and important. You just wondered how to break the news to the guys that you'd be leaving for a few days. Leaving Gabriel...it hurt to think about, and you knew it would be difficult, but you could and would do this for your friend who was hugging you tearfully.

 

You patted her back. "Let's get this son of a bitch. We can leave tomorrow. The boys will understand."

 

Kaylee wiped her eyes again before laughing quietly at herself. "Look at me, I'm a mess." She cleared her throat and stood up, walking to the mirror and fixing her face of any smudged makeup. She shook herself, throwing herself back into her confident, badass persona, as if embarrassed by the display of emotion. Turning to you with an impish look on her face, she said, "I wonder if Tall, Dark, and Handsome down the hall is into sympathy sex," she finished with a wiggle of her eyebrows, making you laugh.

 

You waved her to the door in a "by all means, try your luck" sort of way. She shrugged at you as she reached for the bottle of liquor once more.

 

"It can't hurt to try. It's not like we'll see each other ever again and if I die without jumping on that you bet your ass I'll have some unfinished business to atone for," you weren't sure if she was trying to convince you or give herself a pep talk, but you rolled your eyes at her.

 

"Like you just said, it's not that late. I've seen the girls Sam likes and while they've got nothing on you, you're definitely his type. If he slams the door in your face, I'll be here with the Jack and you can snuggle with me instead. I'll also kick his ass in the morning." She grinned at you before playfully adjusting her boobs in the mirror.

 

"Don't wait up," she said with a wink before exiting the room. You rolled your eyes at your friend. Thank god Sam's room was the furthest one down the hall. You'd been on the other side of the wall from both members at different times, you didn't want to experience the combined noise of the two together. You laughed to yourself as you remembered Dean's room was next to Sam's...he was going to hate you in the morning if this worked out.

 

Still smiling to yourself, you packed away your guitar before grabbing some of the empty containers and making your way to the kitchen to dispose of them. You entered the room to see Gabriel sitting at the kitchen table, apparently lost in thought.

 

"We have got to stop meeting like this, people will talk," you teased, snapping him out of his reverie. He looked at you for a long moment before replying, making your smile falter a bit, uncomfortable with the serious attention. He seemed to sense your discomfort and fixed his expression into one of amusement and interest.

 

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing," he countered. The banter made your eyebrows raise and you looked at him, suddenly feeling bold and playful. It was probably the booze.

 

"Someone's feeling good, tonight. Getting your mojo back, wing boy?" He grinned at you before snapping the garbage out of your hands. With your hands suddenly free, you weren't sure what to do with them. You opted for folding them in front of yourself. He followed your movement with his eyes and saw him visibly swallow as it drew his attention to the shirt you were still wearing. The encounter earlier flashed through your mind and it was all you could do not to blush. Your eyes met for a moment before you both looked away.

 

Standing up, he took his empty bowl to the sink. You weren't sure what he had been eating, but it warmed your heart to know he was eating at all. It was a sign of how far he had come that he was starting to partake in simple things again for the pleasure of it.

 

"So where's your friend?" He asked, drawing you from your thoughts. You laughed as your eyes glanced toward the hallway.

 

"Well, seeing as she hasn't come back to my room, wallowing in despair, I'm assuming she's on top of a moose at the moment."

 

Gabriel's eyebrows raised incredulously, glancing toward the hallway as well before back to you, huffing in approval and amusement. His expression turned curious.

 

"She didn't come all this way for that, did she?"

 

"No," you chuckled, "but I'm sure she's finding it a nice side benefit." Your expression dropped a bit. "She came to ask for my help."

 

Gabriel's face took on a level of concern.

 

"What does she need your help for?"

 

You chewed your lip, leaning against the counter before answering.

 

"Kaylee...well, she hasn't always been a hunter. Unlike me and the boys, she wasn't raised in the life. She used to be a preschool teacher, if you can believe it."

 

Gabriel took a step toward you, listening. You continued. 

 

"Kaylee was married to her college sweetheart, Chris. They got married young, barely out of college. I've seen pictures. You'd hardly recognize her for the person she used to be. That sweet, innocent charm? It's not an act. The lethal assassin came later. She's only been in the life for a little over a decade. Impressive, I know. She's a fast learner and naturally talented. Would you believe she used to be scared of guns?" You chuckled darkly. 

 

"Anyway...they'd been married for about a year before it happened. There was this werewolf, it got her scent. It liked her. It followed her home one night and tried to attack. Chris...he got in the way. Scared the wolf away somehow, but got bitten badly, it nearly tore his arm off. Kaylee did all she could to get him help and stop the bleeding. It stopped...but Chris had turned. She hasn't gone into detail, which I don't blame her for, but I know she had to kill him. What's worse, she was pregnant. She didn't know she was, she wasn't far along, but the stress made her lose the baby. She lost everything, so quickly. It destroyed her for years before she set her sights on revenge. She put all of her effort into becoming the most deadly creature she could. She's a ruthless hunter, gained a bit of a reputation. An assassin's league got wind of her and recruited her about six years ago. She saw it as another avenue for honing her skills and leading her to her prey. She's been searching for him ever since that night, the werewolf. Tracking him. Apparently he's been recruiting. He's got a small family, now. That's why she's here. She's found him and she needs my help to stop him. I have to help her."

 

Gabriel listened with intent, at some point he had moved closer to you, drawn in by the tragic story you told of this woman who was so dear to your heart. This close to you, his concern for you was evident.

 

"Y/N, it sounds dangerous..."

 

"I know it is," you snapped, tears in your eyes, "but I have to help her. I have to." Your heart broke for your friend. Kaylee's story was not a happy one, and you felt her pain in your soul as you looked into the eyes of the man before you. You knew how it felt to watch the one you loved more than anything die in front of you. To have been the one delivering the blow...you didn't know how she had found the strength to keep living. Gabriel sensed your distress and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you. The feeling of being so close to him, your body pressed against his, it set your nerves on fire. His scent was overwhelming this close, citrus and honey and whiskey and something completely ethereal. You inhaled deeply to ground yourself before speaking again.

 

"Gabriel...I have to help her. She's saved my life so many times...even if I didn't owe her, I would go. I'm a hunter. Danger is practically a prerequisite of living my life. If I die, I die. At least I'll go down fighting for a good cause."

 

Gabriel sharply pulled you away from him and held you by the shoulders. The movement startled you, but not as much as the heated emotion behind his eyes as he looked at you.

 

"Y/N, don't you dare say that. You will not die, not if I have anything to say about it. I don't care where you are or what's happening, if you need me, I'm only a prayer away, okay? Promise me you'll pray to me if things turn sour?"

 

"Gabriel--"

 

"Promise me." His grip tightened slightly on your shoulders. His eyes had a desperate tinge to them that struck you deep in your gut.

 

"I promise."

 

Satisfied, he released the breath you didn't know he was holding, along with your shoulders. He hesitated, as if he wanted to speak again. Seeming to think better of it, he held eye contact with you for a moment longer before turning and leaving the room, leaving you alone to wonder what the hell that was, and why it shook you to your core.


	9. Into The Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for sticking with me and this story so far. Your support means so much!! This chapter is a bit long and intense. Its my first time writing combat, so be gentle with me! I hope you all enjoy it! Much love and chocolates! <3

You hefted your small overnight bag over your shoulder and left the bedroom, Kaylee close behind. Walking into the library, you almost laughed at the sight of Dean hunched over a large cup of coffee, obviously not having slept well the night before. Sam, on the other hand, looked refreshed and invigorated, combing through the book in front of him. He looked up as you entered and his eyes found Kaylee's for a second before he looked away, flushing. Kaylee giggled and threw a wink his way.

 

"Rough night, Dean?" You asked. He looked up at you and glared.

 

"Don't think I don't know you had a hand in it." You smiled at him, thoroughly amused at his grumpiness. His eyes took in the bag over your shoulder and his eyebrows cinched in concern. "Where are you going?"

 

You cleared your throat and shifted the bag nervously.

 

"Kaylee needs some help on a hunt a couple hours from here. I'm going with her as backup, we shouldn't be gone more than a couple of days."

 

Dean looked from Kaylee to you before jerking his head toward the hallway.

 

"What about..?"

 

"He already knows," you stated matter-of-factly, ignoring the three sets of eyes that snapped to you in question.

 

Dean raised his eyebrow at you before relenting.

 

"Alright. Well, it's not like we can stop you. Just be careful, okay? Call us if you need any help."

 

You smiled gratefully at him. Your eyes wandered to the hallway, where Gabriel had yet to appear. Surely he knew you were leaving..?

 

"We'd better get going," Kaylee said quietly behind you. Turning to her, you nodded. The boys both stood to give you each goodbye hugs (Sam and Kaylee's lasted a second or two longer than anyone else's and ended with her kissing his cheek, making him blush, which amused you thoroughly). Glancing once more toward the hallway, your heart panged as Gabriel hadn't come out to say goodbye. Instead, you offered a small "Goodbye, Gabe," in your mind that you were sure he heard. Still, nothing. Your expression fell in disappointment. Turning to your friend, you followed her up and out of the bunker, toward her jeep.

 

Throwing your bag inside, you climbed in the passenger side. 

 

"Thanks again for coming with me. I don't think I could do this alone," Kaylee said as she climbed into the driver's seat beside you. You gave her a reassuring smile and she threw the jeep into drive, pulling you away from the bunker and your thoughts.

 

Two hours later, you were driving through a small town just outside of Elkhart, almost to the border of Kansas and Oklahoma. Kaylee pulled into a small motel that had obviously seen better days. She went to rent a room as you unloaded the bags from the jeep. The drive had been strangely quiet. It had the air of finality to it that neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

 

Kaylee returned with the room keys and took her bag from you to throw over her own shoulder. The room was small, with two double beds, a tiny bathroom, and a mini fridge. Setting your bags down on your respective beds, you each turned to the other.

 

"So, what do you know?" You asked your friend. Kaylee took a deep breath before sitting down on the end of her bed.

 

"I know he's got two others with him, a girl and another male. They're holed up in some old distributing warehouse off Route 50 just before the border."

 

You snorted humorlessly, "why is it always an abandoned warehouse?"

 

Kaylee's lip twitched at your statement. "I'll be honest with you, Y/N, I don't have much else to go on. I've never been this close, though, and I can't give up the opportunity to end this, once and for all." Her eyes found yours, pleading. "This has been my life for the last ten years. I'm ready for it to be over...even if it kills me."

 

Your heart contracted for your friend and you reached forward to take her hands.

 

"Well, that's not going to happen, first off. I won't let you die. But listen to me, we are going to end this, one way or another. We're gonna get this son of a bitch. I promise you, that." She smiled at you, her eyes watery.

 

"Thanks, Y/N. I'm glad we met."

 

"Me, too. Are you ready?"

 

Her smile turned cold.

 

"I've been ready from the moment my husband died."

 

"Let's go."

 

Leaving your bags in the room, you headed out to her jeep. She popped the latch on the back, allowing the hidden compartment she had installed to slide out from under the carriage. You both grabbed a gun and a handful of silver bullets. You also slid a silver knife into your boot and she strapped one around her thigh. Stowing your guns in your waistbands, she closed the compartment and slid it back under the jeep, where it was effectively hidden from prying eyes.

 

Twenty minutes later, you were parked at the end of a long, abandoned drive. You could see the building up ahead. It was smaller than you'd anticipated, only two floors and not more than an acre of space. The limited space could work to your advantage, but it could also do the opposite. Surely the werewolves inside knew every inch of the building and surrounding land by now. They would definitely have the home-field advantage.

 

If Kaylee was worried, she didn't show it. She had a determined set to her jaw and her eyes were fixed on the building the two of you were approaching. Sticking to the treeline, you scouted the best spot to infiltrate. You noticed movement in one of the upper windows. You were confident you were both well-hidden in the shadows, but it pays to be cautious. You opted for a glass-less window on the bottom floor to the right of the property, out of sight of that upper window.

 

Kaylee took the lead and climbed silently inside. The room you were in was small and empty. There were small creature bones in the corner and a dirty mat lay against the wall opposite. Something had been living here. Kaylee motioned for you to follow her and you complied, moving silently toward the door she was about to open.

 

The door flung open and a small, wiry man stood in your way. If it weren't for the yellow eyes, snarling teeth, and obvious bloodlust, you'd have mistaken him for a wandering vagrant. He lunged toward the two of you and you both dove to opposite sides of the room. Suddenly in the middle of the room, he looked at each of you before setting his sights on Kaylee. She whipped the gun out of her jeans and unloaded three bullets into his body. He dropped to the ground, lifeless.

 

You caught each other's eyes and Kaylee said, "if they didn't know we were here before, they do now. Come on, let's find somewhere more open. We don't want to be trapped like this."

 

Anticipation replaced now with urgency, you felt your hunter's instincts rising to the surface. You hadn't hunted in almost three months, but with thirty years of experience, it was like riding a bike. Your nerves were on end and you could hear every movement, footstep, creak of the boards under your feet as you followed your friend out of the room. You found yourself in a hallway and turned left, running toward what you'd hoped was the center of the building. You could hear footsteps overhead, obviously you were being hunted the same as you were hunting them. Kaylee burst through a set of double doors and you found yourselves in an open space with several pieces of broken and rusted machinery littering the floor, a catwalk overhead leading to more doors. As soon as you busted through, you heard one of the doors overhead open as well, and three more werewolves entered the room, a man and two women. You glanced at Kaylee in alarm, obviously her count was off by at least one. She didn't meet your eyes, and by the way her shoulders were stiffened, you knew this man must be the one she's been looking for all these years. He stared down at the two of you, brushing his greasy brown hair back with an air of cockiness.

 

"Ladies, please. If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask. No need to go around killing people," the man shouted down at you both.

 

"This is where you die, Killian!" Kaylee yelled up at him. His eyes widened in surprise at the use of his name and he raised his hands in mock intimidation and chuckled.

 

"Woah, feisty. To what do I owe the pleasure of this death threat?"

 

You saw Kaylee's nostrils flare and, instead of responding, took out her gun and fired at him. He dove out of the way and ran toward the door he'd entered through. The blonde of the two women turned to hiss at the two of you before running after him. Kaylee ran toward the ladder on the wall, determined to follow him. You were about to follow her when the redheaded wolf jumped down in front of you, blocking your path.

 

"Where do you think you're going, missy?" She asked. Kaylee turned back to you, torn between helping you and chasing her revenge.

 

"Kaylee, go! I've got this!"

 

Satisfied, she ran through the door the leader had exited. You turned to the woman in front of you, equally as unhygienic as her two companions, who was watching the exchange with dark amusement.

 

"Let me guess, rock and roll Barbie is here for revenge? Aw, poor toots," she turned her face to you, cruelty in her eyes, "I hope he kills her slowly. I love to hear them scream."

 

With that, you lifted your gun and took aim. She was quicker, though, jumping out of the way before lunging at you. You weren't quick enough to avoid her and you cursed your rustiness as she landed on top of you, snarling. Her claws tore at your arms, digging deep into your flesh. You let out a scream as you fought her. Getting your legs under her, you kicked her off of you. Your arms stung with pain and you could feel the blood making your hands slippery. You ignored it the best you could and scrambled up as she got her footing back, preparing to attack once more. You got your gun up in time and fired off four shots, hitting your mark with three of them. You saw the shock in her eyes as she felt the bullets pierce her skin. She looked down at her chest, bloody, before looking back at you and collapsing. Gasping, you pulled yourself to your feet. You heard gunshots.

 

Kaylee.

 

You ran toward the ladder, fighting the pain in your arms as you climbed, determined to help your friend. Reaching the door the two had disappeared through, you ran out into a hallway. Following the noise of a struggle, you found your way to another small room, not unlike the room you'd entered the building through. 

 

The blonde werewolf lay crumpled in the doorway, a bullet hole piercing her skull between her eyebrows. In her hand lay an a bloodstained shiv, not much more than a rock sharpened to a point. Kaylee was bloody, a gash across her cheek and another down her thigh, but she was fighting with a power you didn't know she was capable of. Vengeance was overwhelming in her eyes and seemed to be countering any pain she may be feeling from her wounds. The lead werewolf, Killian, was obviously losing the fight. He had gunshot wounds in his legs, preventing him from running. He had another in his arm, and his face was beginning to hold a modicum of fear of the small woman he'd thought would be so easy to kill. It looked as though Kaylee had purposefully avoided giving him fatal injuries with her shots, she didn't intend for him to die quickly. Neither looked at you as you entered the room.

 

Kaylee fired off another bullet at the creature, which he dodged, falling to the floor in the process. She aimed again and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The wolf began to laugh.

 

"Out of silver bullets, little lady? Aw, too bad. And here I was getting a little worried," he coughed, spitting up a mouthful of dark blood. "I should have known you were weak, just like the rest of them."

 

Kaylee lunged forward, grabbing him by the collar and using her rush of adrenaline to lift him from his position on the floor toward her. At the same moment, she pulled the knife from her thigh and plunged it into his heart.

 

"I am not weak. And neither was my husband. This is for Christopher. And for our child."

 

She twisted the knife and he choked.

 

"Rot in purgatory, you piece of shit."

 

She dropped the dying creature to the floor, tears in her eyes. She looked at you, broken-hearted victory in her expression, but suddenly it turned fearful.

 

"Y/N, look out!" She screamed. You turned just in time to dodge a lunge from a fifth wolf, another woman, who had been sneaking up behind you, a knife similar to the dead blonde's in her hand, although longer and more jagged. You instantly pulled your gun up from your side to fire a shot at her, but your hands were slick and your arms weak from blood loss. She kicked the gun out of your blood-soaked hand and raked her knife across your chest.

 

Pain blossomed across your bosom and for a moment all you saw were spots. Sound had muted and you felt the blood pouring down your front as you fell to the floor. You heard your name and then gunshots. The world came back into focus and you saw Kaylee kneeling beside you, your abandoned gun in her hands and the werewolf who hurt you dead on the floor. You blinked up at her as she commanded you to stay awake. You saw her strip off her leather jacket and her flannel underneath. In just her tank top, she pressed the button-up shirt against your chest, stifling the bleeding as best as she could.

 

The dying pack leader on the floor used the distraction to grab Kaylee around the ankle, knocking her onto her back. With the last of his strength, he picked up the knife the third woman had dropped from the floor where it had fallen near his head and plunged it into her stomach. His head then fell backward, finally dead.

 

You screamed.

 

Kaylee's eyes met yours. Her hands gripped at the hilt of the rough blade protruding from her stomach, which was quickly forming a pool of red underneath her.

 

No.

 

This wasn't supposed to happen.

 

No.

 

You promised she would live through this, even if it killed you.

 

Her eyes turned glassy and her hand reached toward yours on the floor near her. You tried to sit up, tried to crawl to her. You managed to move just slightly, taking her hand. You tried to squeeze it reassuringly, but your fingers barely twitched.

 

Your last thought before losing consciousness was of Gabriel.

 

His face. His smile. His laugh.

 

You'd never see it again, and it made your heart ache.

 

"Goodbye, Gabriel...I love you."

 

Everything went dark.


	10. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, this story has been the most beautiful adventure. Thank you all so much for your love and support through it. I potentially could revisit this story in the future and add to it, but for now, this is the end. I have loved this story like a child and I thank you all for loving it the same. Much love and chocolates <33

Pain. Burning pain.

 

Your name.

 

Blackness.

 

Soft hands.

 

Cursing.

 

Cheap cigarettes.

 

Whiskey.

 

Oranges?

 

Must.

 

Soft. A bed?

 

Blood.

 

Pain.

 

Fabric tearing.

 

More cursing.

 

Blackness.

 

When you finally came-to, opening your eyes was a struggle. Popcorn ceiling, water stains. A fan, turned off. Where were you?

 

You registered the coarse fabric you were lying on, the source of the cigarette smell.

 

The motel.

 

Kaylee.

 

"Kaylee?" You tried to call her name and it came out more as a quiet, choking cough. It made your chest burn. You sensed movement to your right. Turning your head slightly in the same direction, you squinted, trying to focus on what--who--you were seeing. Kaylee? No...your companion came into focus as your vision steadied.

 

Gabriel.

 

"Y/N, try not to move around too much. I'm still not at full power and getting you out of there took a lot of it," he told you, an unreadable expression on his face.

 

"Gabriel..?" You replied, not quite comprehending.

 

"I got the bleeding stopped, but I haven't been able to heal your wounds completely. You've lost a lot of blood. You need to rest."

 

You glanced toward your body. You could see red, raised scars across your arms and torso. Your shirt had been cleared away, probably ripped to shreds by the wolf who attacked you. For some reason, it sent a sharp sense of anxiety through you. You couldn't remember why, but you felt that having your shirt off was a bad thing. Your thoughts were becoming too hazy and trying to work through them was making your head hurt. You turned to Gabriel, confused and muddled. His lip quirked fondly and he sighed a little before leaning forward. You felt him touch your forehead, and then nothing.

 

The next time you woke up, you were alone. You were still weak, but the burning pain was gone, and your head wasn't as cloudy as it had been. You pulled yourself into a sitting position and leaned against the headboard. A glass of water had been set on the side table next to you, along with a bottle of painkillers. A vague memory of Gabriel speaking to you in this room came to your mind. Why was he here? You popped a few of the pills into your mouth and sipped at the water, trying to make sense of what was going on.

 

You remembered the warehouse...fighting the woman under the catwalk. You ran to find Kaylee and saw her fighting the leader...she killed him...and then...

 

You almost choked on the water.

 

She saved you. Again. You remembered the hopelessness on her face as she fumbled with the dagger in her gut. You remembered the smell of blood, your blood, her blood, the blood of the werewolves, it all mixed together in a pool on the floor. Kaylee, stretching out her arm to hold your hand...to die together, fighting the good fight...

 

Your body shook as a wracking sob overtook you. Your hand covered your mouth as you saw her in your mind's eye...the light leaving her eyes...the bubble of blood at the corner of her lips...there was no doubt that she hadn't made it out of there alive. Your heart shattered for your friend and you sobbed. The action made your wounds ache but you didn't care, you couldn't stop it.

 

Dead. 

 

She was dead.

 

You had promised to save her, promised to protect her, and you had failed.

 

You curled into yourself and clutched the pillow to your chest, tears flowing freely and unrelentingly.

 

There was something almost poetic about her death, dying as she killed the one who destroyed her life. Her fight was over with a brutal finality. She was free of her heartbreak, free of her guilt and pain. She finished what she had set out, all those years ago, to do.

 

You don't know when the tears stopped. It could have been hours or days later. Your joints were stiff as you sat up and stretched them.

 

Gabriel had saved you, somehow. This you knew. How he had found you, you had no idea. You wouldn't know until he returned, if he returned.

 

You stood up and steadied yourself on the wall. Making your way to the small sink outside the bathroom, you turned the tap to let the water flow.

 

Gabriel. It was always Gabriel. Things were getting complicated between the two of you in a way neither of you seemed to want to address. You knew why, of course. You wished Castiel hadn't told you about soulmates. Perhaps everything would be easier without that looming over you.

 

You scooped the water into your hands and splashed your face with it a few times, clearing it of the grime and tear tracks from your grief over your friend. Losing hunters was a fact that you had learned to accept throughout this life. It was a hazard of the job, but it didn't make it any easier. Kaylee had left a hole you didn't know she had filled, helping you heal for the past six years as you did the same for her. You saw her bloody face in your mind again and shivered. Shaking your head to clear the image, you splashed yourself with the water one more time before drying off with the towel next to the sink.

 

It was a miracle you hadn't died, yourself. You looked down at your arms, the welts from the gashes were less pronounced, but still there. They would most definitely scar. Your eyes moved toward the slash across your front. It was more jagged, harder to heal. Gabriel had done a good job on them, though, given his depleted store of grace. You didn't want to think about how much it had weakened him to get there, get out, and heal you to this point. You didn't know how you'd ever thank him.

 

You looked yourself over in the mirror in front of you, fingers tracing your newly-forming scars. You mentally shrugged, another hazard of the job. You stopped suddenly. The feeling of anxiety was back, and now you knew why. You were in nothing but your jeans and your bra, your shirt had been cut away.

 

By Gabriel.

 

"Shit."

 

Your eyes widened as they found the reflection of your tattoo in the mirror. Your hand instinctively came up to cover it, your heart pounding.

 

"Yeah, I was going to ask you about that."

 

You whipped around to see Gabriel sitting in a chair off to the side of the room. How long he had been there, you had no idea. He looked worse for wear, his chin propped thoughtfully on his fist as he regarded you. A bag of fresh take-out sat on the table beside him. 

 

Your eyes widened. You felt like a deer caught in headlights. You didn't know what to say or do. This wasn't what you wanted to deal with. Not right now. Not after everything that had happened. Preferably, you'd hoped to keep it to yourself for as long as possible. It was too late for that now, you thought as Gabriel stood and walked toward you.

 

You swallowed as he approached. Standing just a bit closer to you than what was normal, he gently pulled your hand away from your chest.

 

"Wh-what about it?" You voice caught in your throat. You had a hard time keeping eye contact.

 

"I was just wondering why you keep it so hidden? It's quite beautiful."

 

You snorted mentally, of course he would think so. You knew, by the look in his eye, that he recognized it.

 

"It's just...very personal to me." You answered, a bit more confidently. Gabriel looked at you, that unreadable expression back on his face.

 

"Can I ask you about it?"

 

"What do you want to know?"

 

"Where did you get the design for it?" He asked, pseudo-innocently. "It's very unique." You paused a moment before answering.

 

"I drew it," it wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, either. You *had* drawn it...from memory.

 

The answer didn't seem to be what he was looking for, and he searched your eyes. You hoped to god he wasn't searching your head, too. You took his momentary distraction to brush past him, headed back toward the bed.

 

"Do you know why I came to listen to you sing, that first day?" He asked. The question threw you, making you stop a foot before the bed, and he turned to look at you, staying in his spot by the sink. You silently shook your head.

 

"It was the first time I truly knew I was out of that place. Y/N...I was in there, locked up, tortured, for almost five hundred years. Do you know what that can do to a person?"

 

You shook your head again, clinging to each word he spoke. He looked away from you, remembering.

 

"I nearly lost my grip on my sanity. Reality bent, I forgot who I was, where I was...all I knew was pain. But do you know what kept my head afloat? The one thing that kept me grounded, in the smallest of ways, and prevented me from going completely darkside?" He looked up, meeting your eyes. "It was you. Eventually I didn't even know your name anymore, but your face stayed in my mind. Your voice...I had such a clear memory of it...it kept me sane, Y/N. When I saw you again in the bunker, I couldn't remember who you were, only that your face was the face from my dreams. When I heard you singing...they couldn't imitate it properly, down there. It was one torture they couldn't quite perfect. But there, in the bunker, singing that song...I knew I was finally topside. That this wasn't another elaborate trick. Your voice became a drug to me, it gave me the strength to heal." 

 

You didn't know when he had gotten so close to you, but he was suddenly inches from your face.

 

"Y/N...I am in love with you."

 

The simple statement knocked the air from your body in a single gasp. Your eyes were locked on each other, his with a vulnerability you'd never seen in them. You swallowed again before blurting out,

 

"Gabriel, I can see your wings."

 

Your words were obviously not what he had expected and they seemed to physically hit him, knocking him back a step from you as he took them in. You used his hesitation to continue in a rush,

 

"I've always been able to see them. I didn't know what it meant until a few months ago when Castiel told me. I know you recognize the tattoo because it's your wing. I got it a year to the day after you died because I'd been in love with you for so long and you died before I could tell you. I didn't tell you now because I knew you needed to focus on healing and I didn't want to be a distraction from that but Gabriel, I love you so mu--"

 

Your words were cut off as Gabriel closed the distance between the two of you, crashing his mouth into yours. Everything was bliss. His hands were on your hips and yours wound themselves around his neck. He kissed you as though he'd been holding it in for years, and you kissed him back with a passion you hadn't felt the extent of until that moment. Everything was Gabriel. You were completely drunk on him and vaguely registered the feeling of the wall to your back as he pushed you against it. His mouth made its way across your jaw and down your neck to kiss the tattoo above your heart and back. Every spot his lips touched burned in the most exhilarating way. He returned his mouth to yours with a fervor that you returned. There was an incredible, joyous feeling deep within you that could only be your soul and you swore you could feel something so quintessentially Gabriel dancing, twining around it. You felt whole, complete, not knowing you weren't until this point but you knew whenever he broke the kiss you'd feel incomplete, as if half of you were missing. You knew you were getting a taste of what being soulmates truly meant and it was surreal.

 

Soon you were both breathless and he leaned his forehead against yours. Your chests heaved, desperate for air. His eyes were wide, searching yours, and you knew he had felt the same sensation you had. He smiled at you, gently.

 

"That...that I should have done a long time ago." The statement made you smile and he leaned forward to peck your lips once more before pulling away. You searched his face.

 

"It doesn't scare you?" You asked. His eyebrow quirked.

 

"What, that we're soul mates? Sweetheart, I've lived for millennia, and it's the best thing I've ever heard. Does it scare you?"

 

You put your hand on his cheek and he leaned into your touch. "No. Not anymore."


End file.
